A Youthful Dalliance
by GayRomantic
Summary: Thomas Barrow reflects on his time in London with the Duke of Crowborough.


_"One swallow doesn't make a Summer..."_

_"One swallow doesn't make a Summer..."_

_"Youthful dalliance..."_

_"Youthful dalliance..."_

_"Dalliance..."_

_"A few weeks of madness in a London season..."_

_"A few weeks of madness..."_

_"Madness..."_

As Thomas Barrow lay in bed, these were the words of the Duke of Crowborrow, Philip, that replayed in his mind over and over again. He had just come from Philip's guest room in the Downton Abbey and was truly hurt with what was said. It became clear to Thomas that Philip hadn't considered their time in London when the Crawley's visited to have been of any importance. All the Duke had thought it to be was a youthful dalliance; a season of madness.

_'Dalliance...'_ thought Thomas. _'Madness...'_

For Thomas, it had meant much more; he had come to love and admire the Duke during that Summer. It hadn't mean nothing. He'd never before felt such a connection with any one person before; he and Philip were much the same; Philip was really no different than Thomas. He was just as cunning, just as sensual, just as scheming and manipulative.

Not only was the Duke interested in other men as Thomas was, and not only was Thomas able to relate with him, but Thomas had also found Philip to be very good-looking. He remembered the first time he'd seen the Duke; he had instantly become attracted to him; to his soft skin, his brown eyes and hair, his red lips. He'd loved the way Philip looked at him, the nonverbal signs he'd given Thomas to let the black-haired and blue-eyed man know that he was just as attracted.

Thomas remembered one night when he and Philip were alone in the Duke's room after everyone else had gone to sleep.

_"Do you think I don't see the way you look at me?"_ the Duke had asked, his brows raised. Thomas hadn't been sure of what to say, what to think or what to do, but when Philip kissed him, all his worries dispersed. They'd kissed lovingly and tenderly; Thomas hadn't ever felt so desired or so admired in his lifetime; it was something he'd gravely needed.

As time had passed, they would continue to see each other during the night, to talk and kiss and gently touch each other's bodies. And one night, Thomas took things further than he had previously and had softly grasped Philip's package, arousing both himself and the Duke. One thing had lead to another and Philip had told Thomas to taste him; to take him into his mouth; to suck on him. And that was what Thomas had done; he'd first used his hand, running it up and down Philip's length; admiring the look on the Duke's face as he'd tilted his head to the side, his long-lashed eyes shutting. He admired the way the Duke had said his name; moaning as Thomas took the man's phallus into his mouth; sucking him slowly and sensually, making plenty of eye-contact. And when Philip came, Thomas had swallowed all that he had to give. It had been a very intimate and tender moment for Thomas; his heart had never been so stimulated. He'd been very disappointed to leave London after that night, as he knew he would miss Philip; they decided that they would at the very least write each other now and again.

Back at the Downton Abbey, when Thomas had telegrammed Philip, he had thought that their lives would change. He had thought that Philip would marry Mary and earn the Grantham's money; that after the wedding, he himself would become Philip's valet and no longer need to be a footman. Thomas had thought of it so many times; of becoming Philip's valet. It was all he could have wanted. He had thought of he and Philip sneaking off when Mary was asleep; going further than they had that night in London and making love in his room. It had been such a satisfying thought; but now he knew that all of it was no more than a dream. He and Philip's relationship would be no more than a memory; he would not become a valet, and would be forced to remain a mere footman.

That night as he lay alone, looking up at the ceiling, his eyes wet with sorrow, Thomas drove himself to forget about that Summer in London, to harden his heart and forget his feelings for the Duke. Soon, he only despised the memories involving Philip. In fact, he came to despise Philip outright.

Though he would never stop trying; trying to find the right man, one which would love him as much as he loved them. One which would be so loyal, so attractive, so alike to him. He would never stop trying; never stop trying to become more than a footman, to become a valet. Thomas would always work very hard to get what it was he wanted; it was in his nature.

'Some day, things will go as I want them to...' thought Thomas. 'I will make sure of it.'

**_The End._**


End file.
